


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Everybody leaves someday

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Drama, F/M, Friendship, lose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a tumblr prompt: Jenna leaves Doctor Who, Peter doesn't know what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Everybody leaves someday

**Author's Note:**

> I think it could have more angst… but.. make up your mind about it. Rated K (no language, just drama) English is not my native, thanks for reading it anyway.  
> Remember this is a fictional story.

He was not a brave man, never was, never would be. Surely he had made hard decisions in his life that some people would consider brave.

Becoming an actor seemed for the others a brave decision. He never had thought about it that way. It was a job decision - a job he loved, he cared for and you could possibly pay the rent. For him, it was like becoming a carpenter. He wanted to produce something and not only sit in an office. Since when this was a brave decision? He had asked himself this question often.

He had made decisions because they had to be made, not because he had loved to do that. This was not brave, it was struggling with life.

If he would be brave, he wouldn’t just stand there, and look at her, how she shook the hands and shared hugs with all the crew members, with Gatiss and Moffat. A tear in her eyes. He wouldn’t just stand there, hands in his pockets, smiling sadly, quickly becoming aware that an era had ended today. If he would be brave, he had said something long ago.

For example, two month ago in the TARDIS, when she had told him in a casual moment, while they were waiting till the light was set proper, “I think it is time to move on, don’t you think?”

It sounded like a consideration of hers, but he knew she had already made up her mind.

A brave man had might pointed this out. A brave man had shown her, how sad it had made him.

What he said instead was, “It is your decision,” checking his screwdriver batteries. Blending Jennas disappointed reaction out.

It was not what she wanted to hear. For a second he was aware of what she wanted to hear, but he thought he had mistaken something - he was not a brave man.

After this, in the evening he had stood in his trailer rehearsing some clever, convincing lines for her to convince her to stay.

In the beginning of his imaginary tour de force, he had used sentences like:

_'You are irreplaceable in the show. You mean so much to the fans. You will miss the fun and the adventures. The greatness of the myth of Doctor Who. This is a once in a lifetime thing, don't give it away.'_

Not a lie, also not the words he wanted to say.

Instead of telling her what was on _his_ mind, he had stared at his trailer wall where he had covered an ugly grey one in pictures and drawings. From fans, from the World Tour, from friends and other nice stuff. Hidden in plain sight, his favourite shot of Jenna and him while the World Tour a few years ago. In New York on the Empire State Building.

“Oh, I love these!” she had once pointed out to them, when she was in his trailer. “They are my favourites from the World Tour. New York was so wonderful,” she had smiled at the pictures, had actually one taken from the wall – the one with him leaning against the field glass, she smiling at him.

It was his favourite too.

“Was a bit chilly, when I remember correctly,” he had said, just giving a side glance while pretending to search for his script.

She had just shook her head with some kind of indulgent smile, while placing it back on the wall. For a moment he had thought, she looked sad, and that her fingers, softly brushed over his pictured self. Surely he had mistaken something again.

It took her an eternity till she had talked with everybody, had said her goodbyes. Went here and there. One last picture, one last hug, a last cheerful story. He just stood there, watching, waiting. It was his to bring her back to her trailer, to bit her his farewell alone.

“Ready?” he asked softly while everybody slowly went back to daily business.

She leaned into him, grabbed his arm, searching for safety and his warm scent. He was never happier.

In silence they strolled from the set to her trailer, already empty, just one bag left. All the time she had her hand around his waist. The closer they got, the slower they became. He couldn’t blame her.

“So,” she said, her cab already waiting.

“So,” he answered, unsure what to do.

“It is time to go,” she made a tilt to the cab. Already about to go.

He knew, it was now or never.

“Wait a minute, will yer?” he run over to his trailer, to vanish for a moment, till he came back, some piece of paper in his hand. “I think you should take this,” he gave her the picture from his wall. The one from New York. “I am sure you have a copy, but…,” he doted onto it, “this is a special copy.”

She turned it around, reading the words he had written onto it for her. A sniffle and a sad laugh escaped her mouth when she brushed away a tear.

_‘It was my favourite moment, too. With love, Peter.’_

He wanted to say more, more than just goodbye. It was too late.

“Goodbye,” he leaned forward, till her head bumped softly against his chest, her arms winding around his waist, his hands softly stroking her hair and fondling her neck.

Time had run out.

The horn of the cab echoed over to them and they knew it was about time. Time to let go, even when they not wanted to let go yet. Gently he brushed away a tear from her face, pressing a kiss on her cheek. Taking in, one last time, her scent, her warmth, beginning now to understand how many possibilities he had wasted.

“My dear companion.” _‘I know, I should have said something. I should have been a braver man.’_

“My dear Doctor.” _‘Yes, you should have.’_

 

No, sometimes you are not brave, sometimes you just rolled over by life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed --> Kudos?! A review would be great too!  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
